Cogitate
by Adi Who is Also Mou
Summary: Molly Hooper has another job outside of St. Bart's. Poor Sherlock. He never knew what hit him. Slight AU and based on "The Adventure of The Illustrious Client". On TEMPORARY HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

John Watson tried to look poised and dignified, legs crossed and holding his cup of tea _just so._ But it is rather difficult to be dignified when one's best friend was next to you wearing disgusting pajamas which looked as if it had been used for cleaning up coffee spills for most of its career.

_Well,_ John thought wearily,_ at least he isn't naked this time._

Mycroft Holmes did not seem to share his sentiments; rather he was sending his younger brother the deadliest of glares. The only two people inside the ornate drawing room who seemed absolutely unperturbed by Sherlock's horrible wardrobe were Sherlock himself and their client, who was in the middle of a rave, trying to present his case as that of utmost importance.

"You simply _must _take this case, Mr. Holmes," Sir James Damery ranted, traces of the calm and solemn young man that appeared on the papers all but gone, "Lord De Merville has nearly lost his head with worry. Baron Gruner has-"

"Baron Gruner, the Austrian murderer?" Sherlock interrupted, brow furrowing.

"I see you have already formed your conclusions about him, dear brother," Mycroft answered, "The very same, even though he was acquitted for that particular crime."

"How have you gotten mixed up with a man like that?" John asked, feeling a bit lost; neither the Holmes brothers were known for being one for explanations.

"Violet De Merville, the lovely eldest daughter of Lord De Merville, has fallen into that devil's trap. He has the most powerful hold over her, the hold of love."

Both the Holmes' snorted, though Mycroft had the sense of mind to apologize quickly. Sherlock's eyes, which had sparkled when Baron Gruner had been mentioned, dulled instantly.

"What would you like me to do? I cannot be held responsible for what a young lady does and who she falls in love with."

"He is the most dangerous man in London, Mr. Holmes, and she intends to marry him!" Sir James said, looking beseechingly at Sherlock.

"Is he? Well, he must be a worthy adversary, I must say, to be able to hold a title akin to the late Jim Moriarty, the living Sebastian Moran and of course _you_, Mycroft."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Oh God sakes'…Baron Gruner is a collector of women amongst his various criminal accomplishments. He has managed to turn the young lady against her own father; she has decided that any negative word against her fiancé is just plain badmouthing. If she marries him, the only path she will be going down is that of death. He _will _most certainly kill her, and it might mean ruin for the country if Lord De Merville is lost to despair."

"What do you want Sherlock to do then?" John asked, "Talk to Ms. De Merville?"

"No, she won't listen to her own father; I doubt she would even agree to talk to Mr. Holmes," Sir James said darkly, "We had have reports-"

"We had have reports that Baron Gruner has a little black book in which he lists his various sexual conquests. Much like one collects stamps and coins, he keeps a list of the women he has ruined or blackmailed," Mycroft continued, "But that is the limit to which we can trust our secret service. Your job, dear brother, is to infiltrate Gruner's mansion during a gala he is holding and retrieve the book. It may be the only object that can convince the young lady of his assured guilt."

"What do I get out of this?" Sherlock asked.

"Knighthood, which I could absolutely guarantee-" Sir James started.

"Oh I could get that anytime," Sherlock waved off his answer with a rather infuriating smirk, "No, Mycroft, what I would like is for you to remove your incompetent surveillance crew from Baker Street."

"You spy on your own brother?" Sir James asked while Mycroft's lip curled.

"_Fine_," Mycroft said, "Then you will take the case?"

"I _would_ be taking down the supposed most dangerous man in London, I believe they'll call that a result. C'mon then John…" Sherlock got up and grabbing his dress robe, making for the door.

* * *

Mycroft followed them to their waiting car.

"I'll text you the details, of course," He told his brother, "And I'll be employing my best agent as well. I have a feeling she will be invaluable-"

"Sorry, Mycroft, but I don't need any of your lackeys. Though, I can see John is disappointed…"

"I'm a happily engaged man!" John said indignantly.

"Charming." Mycroft snapped, "And pray tell, how do you entice Baron Gruner into giving you or actually your disguise, into giving you a tour?"

Sherlock paused in his steps suddenly, and John walked headfirst into his back.

"You should have been paying more attention, brother. Baron Gruner is a womanizer. He won't hesitate to picking out his next prey even when his fiancé's in the same room."

"Oh alright then," It was a testament to how bored Sherlock was, John thought, that he would be willing to work with Mycroft's agents if it meant he could have a case.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to come along as well?" Sherlock asked John as Mycroft's sleek car raced through London, towards the warehouse where they were meeting Mycroft and his agent.

John raked his eyes over his best friend, who was dressed smartly in an Armani suit with a matching black tie over a white shirt. Sherlock had worn a pair of glasses that somewhat served to conceal his eyes, and his hair, instead of being a messy dark mop, had been tamed and parted to the side.

It wasn't much of a disguise, but nobody would, unless they looked really hard and managed to see through Sherlock's brilliant ability of being able to become another person entirely, realize this young man was actually the World's only consulting detective.

"No, I might make Gruner suspicious."

Sherlock snorted.

"Also, you are going with a _date,_ how am I supposed to fit in? I'm happy watching in from the sidelines. Oh, that reminds me, what do you know about Mycroft's agent…?"

"Apart from the fact that she is supposed to be one of his protégés? Nothing whatsoever."

* * *

"You are late, Sherlock."

Mycroft's cold voice rang out through the old warehouse as they climbed out of the car. John squinted in the half light to notice Mycroft Holmes standing in front a limousine, cutting a very dramatic figure against the glaring headlights.

"Cordial as always Mycroft. I see you are indulging in your need for the dramatic." Sherlock retorted.

"Well, thank god you are above all that, am I correct, Dr. Watson?-"

"Honestly,_ sir_, we happen to be a rather tight schedule. May we just get on with it?" issued a very familiar voice from the limo.

If John Watson hadn't been busy gaping himself, he would have laughed at the look of utter surprise and disbelief at the look on Sherlock's face. For coming out of the car looking absolutely stunning in a blood red form hugging strapless dress that showed off her pale shoulders to perfection was Molly Hooper.

* * *

That saying, John really couldn't find any other connection to this confident Molly who sat across them to the mousy Bart's Molly. That Molly couldn't pull off a dress like that. That Molly couldn't look absolutely gorgeous without second guessing herself.

That Molly couldn't manage a conversation with a very pissed off Sherlock Holmes.

"How long have you been working for him? Before Moriarty? Before you helped me fake my death?"

"Mycroft has been my boss since my dad died. But Sherlock-" Molly glanced at the British government next to her before answering, "I honestly did help you for my own wishes. I work for Mycroft on a freelance basis-"

"How did I miss a glaring obvious fact like that?!" Sherlock hissed angrily.

Molly made to answer but Mycroft interrupted, "You were always a bit _dismissive_ of Ms. Hooper, Sherlock. You barely noticed her until she made the mistake of dallying with Moriarty."

Molly turned an angry red, "You know very well, _sir,_ I only dated him for valuable information which _you_ charged me to dig out."

"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me when I was staying at you hovel of a home!" Sherlock said indignantly.

"I'm not the world's only consulting detective." Molly snapped.

"I refuse to work with you." Sherlock retorted.

Molly leaned over suddenly, grabbed Sherlock's lapels and smashed their mouths together; her tongue going past his lips easily, as he opened his mouth automatically in surprise.

"The fact that I managed to stop you talking twice in ten minutes, Sherlock," Molly said pulling back and fixing her lip make up, "Says that you sort of have to. Anyway, I'm, without bragging, one of Mycroft's best agents and I was the one who found out about the book, means that I get first pick on this case."

Sherlock remained were Molly had released him, lips painted in lipstick and a look of such utter shock that John couldn't resist pulling out his phone and taking a photo of his dazed expression.

Mycroft chuckled. It was worth some air headed young woman being in the jaws of death just to see that look grace his brother's face.

* * *

_A/N: This plot has been bugging me for a while. SO I just had to write it down. Update might take a while, depending on the response and how long I take to finish the others. A lot of people had been asking me for a chapter in How to Keep Your Pathologist starring Mycroft. But THIS plot bunny bit me. Hope you all like it!_

_Thanks for reading and please review!_

_Adi x_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_A very Happy Birthday to **NoveraDeMedeci**, who is brilliant and the awesome Sherlock to my John. _

* * *

The car was dreadfully silent and the temperature had dropped considerably. John could feel the waves of resentment rolling off of the detective next to him. Across him, Molly Hooper held her head stubbornly high; looking out the window and ignoring everybody in the car. The British Government next to her seemed absolutely unconcerned by the atmosphere in the car; he was deeply immersed in reading a text from one of his many minions, ahem…_employees_.

John took the opportunity to study this new Molly with fresh eyes. She looked stunning; the red dress complimented her every curve to the fullest and her hair was done up in an elegant bun which showed off the graceful neck he didn't realize Molly had. Her make-up was minimal; a splash of smoky color around her eyes, and it suited her.

This Molly, John realized, was a whole new enigma, which was possibly the reason Sherlock had gotten so frustrated. Maybe the fact that he had read her incorrectly was affecting Sherlock more than he realized.

Mind you, even he couldn't get his head around the fact. Mousey Molly Hooper actually being a part of Mycroft's unit? Oh God, it would be a long time until he could get used to that.

Mycroft finally looked up from his phone, rolled his eyes and said exasperatedly, "Now, this is all very childish, Sherlock. Keep in mind there is a woman who might die if this mission fails."

Sherlock snorted derisively. "As if you actually care."

"Oh for God's sakes," Molly snapped. "Could you just accept that you were wrong and move on with it?"

"Um…no," Sherlock retorted, "I could still work without any help from another one of your _lackeys, _Mycroft."

Molly looked absolutely _livid__._ "From what it's worth, Sherlock, this case would be better off with me working on it than some man-child who can't see the bigger picture!"

"All right, all right calm down you two-" John started, sensing that Sherlock was about to rain hell down upon them.

"That's enough, you two," Mycroft cut him off; "You are both acting like children. Ms. Hooper, control yourself. This mission is delicate enough without these complications. Now, you two will form a truce, at least until this night is over- after which I don't care what you both do about this change in your relationship- and get that book!" Mycroft's words, dripping with anger, left no room for argument. Molly was somewhat chastised; Sherlock was as unruffled as ever.

* * *

"Now remember, we are right around the corner, should you require assistance," Mycroft said as they neared the gates of Baron Gruner's extravagant mansion, "Ms. Hooper, the bug hidden within your earring should pick up whatever you or people in close proximity to you are saying; but I'm afraid we can't risk a two-way. It will be far too noticeable. Now, Sherlock, are you sure you don't want any bugs?"

"I'm fine," Sherlock drawled. John was worried, but he did not raise any objections; the day Sherlock Holmes accepted help from Mycroft would be the day the sky turned green.

"Well, then, I guess we better be going-" Molly said as the car came to a stop.

"Behave, will you?" Mycroft said, throwing Molly a significant glance.

Molly blushed scarlet. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Anyway," Mycroft turned his attention back to his brother. "Good luck, brother…Try not to get yourself arrested."

"Holler if you need me," John said, clasping Sherlock's hand as he started to climb out after Molly.

"That wouldn't work," Sherlock said in all seriousness.

"Oh I didn't—never mind."

* * *

Molly cast her well trained eyes around the gala, which was already in full blast, looking for their host. Needless to say, it was Sherlock who found him first. He wrapped his arm around her waist and began to lead her to him. Molly glanced up at the tall man next to her and was shocked to find the cold, cynical man gone completely. Replacing him was a warm, sweet and very good looking young man with a large smile. The typical young business tycoon who had made it on mostly his parents' funds.

"Baron Adrian Gruner, how nice to make your acquaintance!" Sherlock said to their host as he reached him, raising his voice an octave above his usual baritone, "I'm Pierre Le Brun, the-"

"The business tycoon, ah yes, pleasure is all mine." Adrian Gruner said good-naturedly, even though his eyes were mainly on Molly. "I saw your name on the guest list a few hours ago. One of Lord De Merville's family friends, I take it."

Sherlock did a little bow, "He honors me by calling me a family friend. I felt I must attend today, to congratulate you on your engagement. Now where is darling Violet?"

"She went to _powder her nose_, you know how women are," Gruner said, before turning the full force of his attention to Molly. "I'm afraid I don't have the good fortune yet of knowing your name, madam."

Molly gave an obnoxious little giggle, playing her part well. "Oh, I'm Kathleen Winter…but," She glanced at Sherlock, unable to resist pricking his hide a bit, "You can call me Kitty." The hand resting on her hip squeezed her slightly. The message was clear: _What are you playing at?_

"Kitty Winter, what a lovely name," Gruner took her hand and kissed it, throwing her a smoldering look. Molly internally cringed but kept smiling.

"Yes, Miss Winter has been very kind enough to accompany me tonight, I don't know what to do without _my_ little lady," Sherlock said, smiling charmingly.

"Thank you, Pierre," Molly said, and then turned immediately back to the baron. She knew what she must look to the baron—the air headed secretary who would just jump at a chance of finding a _richer _man; a quality which the baron fulfilled quite satisfyingly. Good. That was the whole point of this conversation.

"Dear Mr. Gruner-" she started.

"Baron, its Baron, Kitty darling," Sherlock said, and Molly resisted the urge to slap the man on the smug face.

"Yes, sorry-"

"You may call me Adrian, Kitty," Gruner said, completely laying on the charm. Molly was immune, but she could see what Violet De Merville saw in him. On looks alone, Gruner was really quite a catch. If you could look past the fact that he was a cold blooded murderer and master blackmailer, that is.

"_Adrian,_ this is quite a gala you have thrown! Ms. De Merville is a very lucky woman."

"She is, isn't she?" said a cold voice from behind them. Molly twisted her head and saw the breathtaking woman in absolute white, Violet De Merville.

* * *

Anyone would have said that Violet De Merville was an angel. She had an ethereal quality about her, she didn't walk, she floated gracefully across the room. She seemed to exude purity, dressed in a beautiful white gown that would have put any royal wedding gowns to shame. The diamonds in her earrings and necklace sparkled.

Molly felt an intense sort of dislike towards her, but judging by the look on Sherlock's face—she had managed to spark an interest even in him. _Men, _Molly thought viciously, _they are all the same. And women like Violet, being able to pull off looking like an angel- _She was cut off from her mental rant by Sherlock's large hand gently guiding her away from the Baron and his fiancé. "What?" she asked dumbly.

"Couldn't risk staying in front of Ms. De Merville for any longer than necessary. She would have figured out I wasn't Pierre Le Brun quickly enough, she seems quite intelligent," Sherlock said, now guiding her to the dance floor where they could talk in relative privacy.

"Not intelligent enough to not fall for that slimy git," Molly said, momentarily forgetting that the British Government was on the other end of her bug.

"In my experience, I have realized that the two extremes call each other, the spiritual to the animal, and the cave-man to the angel. This is possibly the worst case of it." Sherlock guided her gracefully around the dance floor, his face an aloof mask but for his eyes, which darted about the room observing everything.

"Eloquent," Molly said, raising her eyebrows. She never would have put Sherlock down for long poetic speeches.

Sherlock seemed already distracted, their gently swaying movements coming to a halt, "Hm…I think the time is ripe. The baron is suitably engaged. I think I'll just show myself into his rooms now."

"You are doing this alone?" Molly grabbed onto his arm quickly, preventing him for stalking away.

Sherlock looked annoyed. "This sort of work requires absolute stealth. Also I would be better at finding out were he has hidden that book of his. Now you can help by distracting the baron if need be, do that air headed Kitty act you were doing before. Speaking of which," Sherlock threw her a look, "I would like to talk to you about that particular name later." He pried himself gently away from her and was soon lost in the crowd.

* * *

Molly's heart was racing. It had already been half an hour, but there was neither hide nor hair from the consulting detective. It was looking awkward as well, she was just standing there, alone and people were starting to look at her funny. She never belonged properly in high society anyway, regardless of the many socialite events Mycroft had forced her to attend before.

"Ah, Miss Winter, I was wondering if I could steal a dance," Said a confident voice behind her. Turning, she smiled at the Baron, who smiled winningly back. "That is…if your boyfriend-"

"Oh he's not my boyfriend," Molly said, unable to stop the blush from spreading across her cheeks, "He's just my boss who's forcing me to come to this party while he goes boozing off."

"Well, let's change that, shall we?" Adrian Gruner said, taking her arm and leading her to the dance floor.

It wasn't until Molly felt his hands grip her hips painfully hard that she realized something was wrong. "Now, Ms. Winter, I hope you are enjoying yourself regardless…?"

Molly nodded, suddenly unable to speak. She could barely hear him anyway, blood had started to pound at her ears.

"Good girl," the Baron said, voice dangerously low, "Now be a dear and tell Mycroft Holmes the next time he tries to interfere with my engagement, I will _kill_ his brother instead of merely _crippling_ him."

* * *

___Now, a few notes: Baron Gruner's name was actually Adelbert Gruner; but I'm sorry, I couldn't write that with a straight face. I apologize for my childishness. Le Brun (I added the Pierre) was a French agent who got crippled by Gruner's henchmen for messing into his affairs. Since Sherlock gets attacked later on in the story anyway, I figured- why not kill two birds with one stone? Kitty Winter, was of course, the fiery lady who helped Sherlock find out about the book Gruner kept._

_Wow. The response to this fic has been absolutely brilliant! Thank you so much to all those who faved, alerted and reviewed-** MadAsAHatterJayy, compostionc, Petra Todd, magicstrikes, GuEsT, GoldenVine (thanks for all those carrots love!), patemalah21, whytejigsaw, LeeLee, Guest, Zora Arian, Ssmill, Lono, shepweir always and Mione W.G!**_

_And a whole lotta love to my wonderful beta **A Pirate By Any Other Name,** for taking the time to correct all my juvenile mistakes and being a great person to talk to!_

_Thank you for reading and please, leave a review!_

_Love,_

_Adi x_


	3. Chapter 3

Cogitate 3

* * *

Adrian Gruner squeezed her hips painfully hard, something of a leer forming on his face and his blue eyes icy cold. Molly fought to keep her face impassive, knowing that their cover was blown (or was it ever there?) and attempting to not let Gruner have the satisfaction of watching her panic.

The baron released her in a sudden movement and walked away quickly without even a backwards glance. Molly took a few deep breaths, willing her heart to slow down a bit. She hadn't felt this much mission anxiety since her first one, now everything was falling apart. She roved her eyes over the doorways, looking for the one Sherlock had taken. He couldn't be far, she was certain Gruner's henchmen must have stowed him away in some sort of closet or small corridor.

Her stomach lurched uneasily at the thought of Sherlock's broken body lying spread-eagled in some obscure corner of the mansion. God, she needed to stop thinking like that.

A strong, warm hand on her arm caused her to jolt out of her panicked reverie. "We found him," whispered the regal voice of Mycroft Holmes, "Doctor Watson is taking him to St. Bart's now. I would have preferred a much more private hospital, but John insisted."

"How is he?" Molly asked as she let Mycroft lead her away from the crowd and towards the exit. She hadn't heard a single word properly after Mycroft had said they had Sherlock.

"Alive," Mycroft replied, doing nothing to ease the knot of worry that was churning in Molly's belly.

"You found him quickly, where was he?" Molly said quietly as they climbed into the smaller Mercedes that had driven up the drive to meet them.

"They left him outside in the alleyway behind the mansion. Regardless of my brother's protests, I had the foresight enough to slip a small tracker into his pocket. I'm amazed he didn't notice, he must have been very distracted." Mycroft took a deep breath then continued, "Luckily, my agents could be deployed to find him almost as the baron told you about the deed, though unfortunately, the hired muscles managed to escape."

"I…I'm sorry." Molly whispered in a very small voice, head bowed and hands clasped together. If it was someone other than Mycroft, they would have lied to her and told her it wasn't her fault. But because he was Mycroft Holmes, he maintained the dignified silence.

* * *

Mycroft strolled into St. Bart's to the waiting area, Molly trailing along with him, absolutely impervious to the stares they were both attracting. Especially Molly, in her dress, even though she had thrown a rather large coat over herself. John stood up from the chair he was sitting on, his face grim. Molly flinched at the sight of the large blood patches, presumably Sherlock's, on his beige jumper. John nodded at Molly, his hands clasping then unclasping, and then said to Mycroft, "Dr. Leslie Oakshott is the one in charge of Sherlock, and you wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?"

"In light of recent events," Mycroft said lightly, "I thought it would do to have the expert's advice."

"So you managed to get the best surgeon in Britain…oh wait, I forgot, you being the British Government and all. You alright then, Molls?"

She flinched again at the nickname, as if she didn't have enough guilt to deal with. She nodded slowly. John smiled tiredly at her. "Well, that's a relief; I thought Gruner might have targeted you himself."

Before Molly could form up a suitable reply (and apology, her heart was breaking every time she saw how drawn John looked) the surgeon came out, saying in gravelly voice, "Well, Mr. Holmes, I think your brother might be alright. There were two lacerated scalp wounds, quite a few bruises and multiple stitches were required. Morphine has been injected and quiet is absolutely essential. But I think," he gave Molly a small smile, "A quick interview with the most _intimate _of friends or family can be allowed."

Mycroft nodded in a dismissive manner and the surgeon left, walking away quickly. "Well, then, Doctor Watson, would you like to see him first…?"

"What…me?!" John asked, bewildered. "Shouldn't you be going first? Being his brother and…"

Mycroft shook his head. "I think he would like to see you first. I have to have a rather urgent meeting with Sir Damery."

John nodded absently, already halfway through the door. When he was out of earshot, Molly said, "Sir, I am so…"

"No need for apologies, Ms. Hooper. What's done is done. We need to look for some other way. Maybe I can talk some sense in Ms. De Merville," Mycroft said, already walking away.

"But, Sir, I can…"

"Ms. Hooper," Mycroft snapped, turning his head sharply, "I think you have done enough for now. In other circumstances, I could have fired you on the spot. But, because I know you are very good at what you do and because your father was a close friend, I'm letting this slide for once. This does not mean I'm ready to let you work for me now, though. Think of yourself as temporarily disavowed."

"Yes sir," Molly said, in no little wonder. The last time someone had messed up something in regards to Sherlock, they ended up working ten months in the frigid wastelands of the Artic. She…got off easy.

"Molly," Mycroft said in such a soft voice that it made her look up at him in shock. Mycroft gave her a wan smile before turning away and walking off. Molly collapsed on the hard seat, took a shuddering breath and buried her face in her hands, willing herself not to cry.

* * *

John looked down at his friend, swathed in the bright lights of the room and looking so very young in the bedclothes and the bandages which surrounded his head. Sherlock's eyes were closed he looked so peaceful and serene that John loathed to disturb him. Instead, he cast his eyes around the room, looking for a place to sit, more than content to wait for Sherlock to wake up.

"John…" said Sherlock very weakly.

"Yeah?" John said, coming into his view. "You alright, Sherlock?"

"I'm fine, actually." Sherlock said, voice getting stronger with each syllable, "Those idiots couldn't kill me even if I had my hands tied behind my back."

"And yet here you are, lying in a hospital bed covered in bandages," John said dryly. It felt like a great weight had lifted off of his shoulders, he hadn't felt this horrible since Moriarty and the Fall.

"I could handle the two goons, it was the third that proved too much for me. They were pretty intent on breaking on of my limbs; my fighting back was quite a surprise for them. As it was-"

John broke before Sherlock could launch into one of his long-winded explanations. "Okay, alright, Sherlock, don't stress yourself. You should relax. I need to go beat the crap out of Gruner."

Sherlock chuckled, a deep melodious sound that made John laugh along with him, "Oh good, old John-"

"Old, who are you calling old? And stop talking to me like I'm some sort of puppy," John said teasingly. The two friends broke out into another series of giggles that were horribly inappropriate given their situation.

"John, if you go 'beat the crap' out of Gruner, I wouldn't have my blogger anymore. Now, what we must do is to use this as an advantage. I want you to tell everyone, Scotland Yard, the media especially, that I'm grievously ill. I can get Mycroft to change the hospital records-"

"Why?" John asked, utterly nonplussed.

"I need Gruner to think I'm out of the way. When he lowers his guard, I shall get him. I mustn't underestimate him though; he's much smarter than he looks."

Realizing that Sherlock was about to sink into his mind palace, John said, "Well, since you are alright, I'll get myself a cuppa. Do you want anything?"

"Is Molly here?" Sherlock said, looking up from his prayer position.

"Yes, probably…why?"

"Molly. I need to see Molly. Fetch her for me."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry this one took so long, and the next chapter might take longer, I want to try finishing off the other fic before this one. Thanks for your reviews, faves and alerts-**MadAsAHatterJayy, magicstrikes, patemalah21, Diana, MorbidByDefault, Lono, Zora Arian, 173'dliketobe167, faeryenchanter, hermione draco holmes and the guests!**_

_Lots of love to A Pirate By Any Other Name, for being such an understanding beta and taking the time to read through this!_

_Also, thanks to NoverDeMedeci, for being great!_

_Hope you review,_

_Adi x_


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